


finite

by balisong



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Nationverse, Not Really Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 05:23:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17616326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balisong/pseuds/balisong
Summary: Late-night escapades for Allen and Alfred are not unfamiliar to reckless activity and philosophical ponderings. During a manic high, Alfred can't help but to let himself wonder: if we can't die, how do we disappear?





	finite

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! im stupid and dont know how to write the next chapters for my last vb fic but alas!! this little drabble popped up in my mind.  
> tw for death and suicidal themes, theres no actual death but a great deal of it is discussed! pls don't read if you are sensitive to these topics!!  
> also my fckin brain hurts i wrote this in one go in the span of like 2 hours

     "If the world decayed, where would we go?"  
Alfred ponders the question. Lets it sit in his mouth like the smoke from a cigarette drag and exhales it slowly. Allen, with his head on Alfred’s shoulder, looks up at him.  
     “I mean, do you ever just think about that? Like—” Alfred takes a deep breath in and the dark-haired man holding him can feel his chest rise as he does so. Alfred Jones does this every time he’s about to go on a spiel; Allen took careful time to observe the way he adjusted his glasses—his hands, hands of a gladiator etched in childlike wonder—pushing them up carefully. If he whipped his head around any faster, they would fall off and into the water below them. The gaze Allen is met with is electrifying and maybe a little scared.  
     “We can’t die.” Allen chuckles softly into Alfred’s chest. This is a fact that everyone knew; nations couldn’t _die_ per se, the way that humans did. Their mortal fate was met with a withering disappearance that branched off into newer colonies and newer countries; taking the language with them as they adapted and aged, and all the like.  
      “That’s the thing. We can’t.” Alfred’s voice is suddenly grave.  
      “Good. We can spend the rest of eternity fucking.” Allen jokes.  
      “You don’t understand. Like, people have this…this heaven and hell, this reincarnation, like, they all seem to have understandings of an afterlife and perhaps that’s where humans go but like, where do we? All these dead languages and shit, like, we know Latin, we know the great inventors, philosophers, whatever of the ancient world, but where is Rome?”  
      “I think Feliciano hangs out with him sometimes.” Allen responds as if it wasn’t a rhetorical question.  
      “No, he doesn’t. He sees him in like, apparitions and shit. Like, do we have a heaven and a hell?” Alfred was freaking out. Allen wasn’t quite there yet.  
      “You’d only know when the time comes.” He snuggles closer into the blonde.  
      “That’s what scares me, Al. I’m—we—we’re closer and closer to ending up like that. I don’t feel like I’m even _me_ anymore, or what I stand for, I’m controlled by the people who fucking own me—and you—I’m scared they’re even watching us right now—and all the people who live here, I’m scared for them too. They don’t know what’s coming. I’m scared I’m getting too big. That they wouldn’t be able to handle me anymore one day—that one day, something real bad’s gonna happen, I—” Allen kisses a soft, chiseled cheek. He peppers his lips over his face and to Alfred’s lips, kisses him slow as an attempted act of reassurance.  
      “I’m scared too, now that you mention it.”  
     “There’s just…nothing we can do about it. And the worst part is watching everybody die. Like, I’ve seen so much that I should be used to it at this point but it’ll never stop getting to me. Way back when all the life I had to see disappear and it was ultimately _my_ fault for not keeping my citizens safe. All the shit I’ve gotten myself into…Al,” His voice grows somber.  
     “Yeah?”  
     “You’re the only one I can be this vulnerable with.”  
      “I know, baby. It’s okay. You got the weight of the world on your shoulders, I don’t blame you.” Allen takes the liberty to lock their fingers together and kisses Alfred’s hardened knuckles. No matter all the shit he’s been through, all the trauma of _being_ the United States of America, all the hardend-ness he was required to show, to Allen, he was always soft. He never really grew past a scared boy, and Alfred allowed himself to expose that side of him to Allen when they were together. Allen was not like the others—simply put, there was no other entity besides Alfred’s counterpart that could complete him and made them United in the sense that they were. There were surely others like Allen, (the “alternate” nations as they were called, born from demographic differences and other varying factors) but none of them had the same bond that Alfred and Allen had. They were truly one. Without one, the obverse couldn’t exist.  
     “I wanna die with you.” Allen murmurs.  
     “Well duh, you will when I will. If I will.” A little sentimental humor.  
     “I got an idea.”  
     “What?”  
     “Let’s die.” Allen smirks. He looks over at their feet, dangling over the edge of the bridge there were sitting on.  
     “What—? No.” Alfred squints.  
     “C’mon Alfie,” Allen lifts his head off Alfred’s shoulder and straightens his back. He holds both of the blonde’s hands in his. “You wanna know what it’s like so bad, well damn, let’s do it then.”  
     “You want to jump off this bridge?”  
     “Yes. We’ll do it together.”  
     “That’s not gonna kill us.”  
      “I know, but it’ll be fun won’t it?”  
      “Yeah, you’re right.”  
      Alfred stared down at the water ebbing and flowing below his feet, then lifted his glance to his counterpart beside him. Allen looked at their hands; entangled, fingers slipping between the spaces of the other's, both calloused in their own ways. His crooked smile spreads across his face as he meets Alfred's gaze. "Ready?"  
      Alfred doesn't know why he's nervous; he's surely been through worse. He squeezes Allen's hand and returns a smile, bright and sunny. "Ready as ever."  
     Doing dumb shit was no new thing for the two of them. Making out in stolen cars, skinny dipping in the Pacific Ocean, getting drunk and stumbling for hours, getting lost under desert skies—there was no comfort like the comfort shared between the two of them when doing said dumb shit. The last time they did anything like this it was driving one of the old cars that Allen had abandoned working on straight into a soon-to-be demolished building. A win-win situation it was; since neither building nor automobile were going to be much use anymore anyways. Allen recalls the blood dripping down their foreheads and how they had laughed.  
     When they jumped, hand in hand, there was the stomach lurching, churning of the internal organs as gravity suddenly weighed heavily upon them and hurled them like rocks towards the depths of the ocean water. Then they felt nothing. There was no glass-shattering of bones, no sudden, stabbing pain through their backs. This is the same feeling that Alfred would feel when bullets hit him; he acknowledges that it went through his body, and it hurt, but there were no effects that lasted past a few hours.  
     As expected, there was no black out. There was no sudden flashing of life’s slideshow before them. It was as if they had just jumped off a diving board. Immediately, Allen had the instinct to embrace Alfred. He saw that he was still below the depths, grabbed him by the hand to immediately (attempt to) hold him close, laughing like an absolute maniac. The adrenaline rush was always worth it. This wasn’t the first time he had jumped off a building just to see what would fucking happen. When death wasn’t an option, the chance to destroy oneself as much as possible for the fun of it was always prevalent.  
     Alfred was gasping, eyes still struggling to blink the ocean away and to face his counterpart. Allen smiled wide, kissed him on the mouth, hitting his teeth, and smoothed his hands through wet hair. Alfred struggled to kiss back. For a couple breathless moments this is all they did; the mashing of their tongue and lips, the grabbing of cheeks, smiling and laughing the entire time. If they were human, this would be the end. In retrospect, the both of them had already met multiple ends, that this did not faze them as anymore than a fun, impulsive activity.  
     “I love you.” Allen says breathlessly.  
     “I love you too.” Alfred is smiling too, then pauses.     
     “…Fuck, my glasses.”


End file.
